


The Good With The Bad

by Lemons-Eloise (orphan_account)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Depressing, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overdosing, Pain, References to Depression, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, Vomiting, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-02-22 21:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13175229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lemons-Eloise
Summary: Yuuri sees something in Yuri that he finds within himself, as well. Together, they try to heal.This is a vent work, and it is very close to my heart.





	1. The Bad Days

Yuuri could see from the moment he met him that his heart weighed heavy in his chest. He was broken, splintered, and cracked. It could be seen in the way he hid away, in the way he closed himself off from everything and everyone. It could be seen in the determination he had in skating, and in the way he poured himself until he was empty when he was on the ice. Yuuri knew these tactics well, though he was never strong enough to immerse himself in them. He always wore his heart on his sleeve; he was not practised in hiding what he needed. 

Yuri avoided him like the plague when he moved to Russia to be with Viktor. Yuuri had thought they were growing closer- that look Yuri gave him under the waterfall that day, the way he shared his grandfather’s pirozhki. But once he was actually living in St. Petersburg and training at the same rink as him, Yuri wouldn’t give him the time of day anymore.

It wasn’t just Yuuri he avoided; it was Viktor, too. He threw himself into his routines, working himself until he looked as if he was ready to collapse. Yuuri’s heart ached, longing to reach out to him. He knew what he was going through, he knew that he could offer support. But each time he found himself alone with Yuri, he locked up. All the wonderful words he’d had stored away suddenly vanished, and he was left scrambling for _anything_ he could say to the teen. So, he said nothing at all.

“Viktor,” Yuuri murmured as they were lying in bed one night. “You’ve known Yurio for a long while, haven’t you?”

Viktor hummed and nodded, placing down the book he was immersed in. “Since he was ten years old. Why do you ask?”

Yuuri sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Was he always like this? So… distant and uncaring?”

Viktor closed his book completely, reaching between them to thread his fingers with Yuuri’s. “He’s not as cold as he seems, Yuuri. You and him are similar in a lot of ways,” Viktor confirms, sucking in a sharp breath. “It’s hard for him to let people see his vulnerabilities.”

Yuuri swallows, nodding. “But you’ve seen them, Vitya?”

The look in Viktor’s eyes confirmed that he had, the slight nod of his head affirming it tenfold. His icy blues turned a bit greyer, and he squeezed Yuuri’s hand. “They aren’t a pretty thing, but I’m sure you already know that, love.”

Yuuri _did_ know, and it ate at him to no end. some days, it felt like all he had left was the fight inside of him, and if that faltered… there would be nothing left. Other days, he was okay- happy, even. Viktor made him happy. Viktor made him feel a lot less worthless than he’d thought he was before. But Yuuri knew all too well how feelings could lay dormant, then creep up and spiral at any given time.

“Yes, Vitya. I know.”

There were days, few and far between, when Yuri wouldn’t come to practice. It was an observation Yuuri had made early on upon moving to Russia- the cycle would repeat itself once every few weeks. Yuri wouldn’t come to practice, and Viktor would spend too much time on his phone in the morning, sending text after text. When they left in the afternoon, he would send Yuuri home and stop at Yuri’s apartment, using some excuse about Yakov wanting him to check in on the teenager. Yuuri referred to these as _Yuri’s bad days_ in his head. He knew about bad days all too well.

The next time Yuri didn’t show up to practice, Yuuri stopped Viktor from going to his apartment after practice. “Let me,” he requested softly.

They stood outside the apartment building in silence for a few moments, chilling winds making Yuuri shiver. Finally, Viktor nodded. “He won’t talk to you,” he warned.

Yuuri nodded, understanding. “That’s okay,” he conceded.

Ten minutes later, he was knocking on Yuri’s apartment door with a bag of pirozhki from the restaurant down the street. The teen answer the door in sweatpants and a tank top, hair tangled as if he’d just woken up. His eyes widened upon seeing Yuuri instead of Viktor, and he moved to shut the door, only stopped by Yuuri’s foot wedging between the door and doorframe.

“What do you want, Pig?”

Yuuri ignored the nickname, kicking the door open with his foot. “I brought you pirozhki.”

“I don’t want any fucking-”

“I didn’t ask.”

Acting much bolder than he felt, Yuuri shoved his way into the apartment, placing the bag of pirozhki on Yuri’s countertop. The apartment was a right mess- clothes littered the floor, the trash hadn’t been taken out in some time, and dishes were piled in the sink. Yuuri sighed, eyes scanning over the small space. Yuri reluctantly closed the apartment door as Yuuri sat on the couch, scowling.

“What do you want; seriously?”

Yuuri took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I want to bring you dinner because you need to eat. I want to tell you that you should take a hot shower or bath, because it helps. You should take a nap with your cat, put on music that you like. After seeing the state of your apartment-”

“Fuck y-”

“I want to let you know that if you need help cleaning it, I’ll be glad to help you. And I want you to know that I know what you’re going through, and I’m here for you. Okay?”

Yuuri made the mistake of looking up, meeting Yuri’s eyes. They were watering, his lip wavering, but his voice was steady. “Fuck you,” he hissed. “You don’t know anything at all.” He spun on his heel, the bathroom door slamming shut behind him as he locked himself inside. 

Yuuri didn’t go after him. He wandered into the kitchen, washing the sink full of dishes and placing them carefully in the dishrack. He picked up the clothes from the floor, moving them into a pile in the corner. He only approached the bathroom once he was ready to leave, his heart splintering at the muffled crying he heard from behind the door. He didn’t knock, he didn’t try to enter.

“I put your pirozhki in the fridge,” he whispered. “Please try and eat some.”

“Screw you, Pig,” was the muffled reply.

“Call us if you need anything.”

Yuuri took the garbage out to the curb on his way out.

Viktor was waiting at the table when Yuuri returned, chinese takeout containers on the surface. “How did it go?” Viktor asked as Yuuri shrugged off his coat and washed his hands at the kitchen sink.

“Just about as well as you were figuring it would,” Yuuri replied with a chuckle.

“He texted me,” Viktor announced as Yuuri sat down. Yuuri waited expectantly as Viktor opened up a container of noodles, scooping it onto two plates. “He said if I ever send my little pig over to badger him with some sappy bullshit again, that he’s going to kick my ass. In Yuri terms, that means, ‘I hate you both but I know Yuuri is here for me, too’.”

Yuuri grinned, enticing one from Viktor as well. “I’m honored.”

Viktor took a bite of his food, fiddling with his fork for a moment as he chewed. “He seemed okay, though?”

Yuuri nodded, casting a reassuring smile across the table. “I wouldn’t have left if I thought any differently, Vitya.”

Viktor’s sigh of relief shook Yuuri to the core.


	2. Cracks

Yuri very rarely interacted with them at practice. He would scowl, when spoken to, or make a snarky remark when one of the older men fell. He very rarely spoke to them outside of that, so Yuuri was no less than surprised when Yuri skated up to him during their break, as he was sipping from his water bottle.

“Pig,” he snapped, prompting Yuuri to place the water bottle down immediately.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

Yuri’s green eyes were trained on him, fierce and glaring. He scowled, shaking his hair out of his face, only to have it fall right back to where it was. “If you ever barge into my apartment and start touching my shit again, I will ki-”

“Kick my ass?” Yuuri mused, cocking his head to the side.

Yuri growled, kicking the edge of the rink and flipping his bangs again. “You didn’t have to… clean anything,” Yuri finally conceded.

Yuuri shrugged, knowing that this was the closest thing that Yuri could manage to a _thank you_. “You’re welcome, Yurio.”

“That’s not my fucking name,” Yuri fumed, skating away in purposeful strides. 

There were two ways that the world knew how to crack open, and one was much more pleasurable than the other. Yuuri had experienced both; the first many times and the second only a select few. He was no stranger to the way the world cracked open when his heart began to splinter. He knew the feeling like the back of his hand- he could tell when it was creeping up suddenly, and he recognized it when it hit like a freight train. When the world cracked open and took his happiness with it, Yuuri was somewhere he’d been many times before.

The other way his world cracked open happened when he’d met Viktor- well, maybe not when they’d met for the very first time. It had happened when Viktor had pressed their lips together on the ice. It had happened when Viktor first spoke the words, “I love you, Yuuri”. It had happened the first time they made love, the second he walked into the apartment that was now _theirs_ in St. Petersburg, and the first time Viktor ever helped him claw his way out of the world cracking in the _other_ way that he was so familiar with. 

Yuuri couldn’t pinpoint when he started having bad days. All he knew was that sometimes, skating helped. Other times, he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. His mother always understood, and she took care of him. She never pressed him for answers, and she always made sure that he took care of himself. It came in waves. He could be fine for weeks, he could be broken for weeks. Sometimes, he wouldn’t have a bad day for a month. But, it always came back. Like a disease of the mind, his brain was rotted, and the thoughts that brought him down always seemed to return.

Yuuri watched intently as Yuri skated away from him, launching himself back into his routine although their break wasn’t over. Yes, the younger man used skating to cope. That much was obvious. He had Viktor to check on him when he was too absorbed to get to practice. But, who did he have that he could rely on consistently? It was clear that he had some trust for Viktor, but it wasn’t sustainable. Yuuri knew all too well what the isolation felt like, and he had people to help him. He couldn’t imagine the magnified isolation that Yuri must feel.

The scary thing about the world cracking, aside from the feelings themselves, was the unpredictability. One second, Yuuri was fine, and the next, he wasn’t. Sometimes he broke slowly, and sometimes he broke all at once. That day, Yuuri broke without warning, and when he broke, he crumbled.

He usually managed to keep himself together until they got home, but today, Viktor found him on the locker room floor in his sneakers just after lunch. He looked up when Viktor walked in, his heart sinking even further into his stomach. Viktor was worried- Yuuri hated making him feel worried.

“Hey,” he said softly, accepting the hand that Viktor extended to help him up. “I think I’m going to go home and rest for the afternoon.”

Viktor looked him up and down, scrutinizing. He seemed to be searching for something, and when he didn’t find it, he shook his head. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no.” Yuuri sighed, the weight of guilt pressing into his already heavy chest. “You need to stay and practice. I’ll be okay, Viktor.” 

Viktor sighed, running his fingers through his bangs. “Yuuri, I'll be worried if you go home by yourself.”

Yuuri's heart sunk even further, guilt swimming inside the sea of his chest. “Viktor, please. I'll feel worse if I keep you from your practice. I'm going to go home and snuggle up with Makka on the couch.” For good measure, Yuuri added, “I'll send you a text every half hour so you know I'm alright.”

Finally, Viktor nodded. “Okay.” Forcing a smile, he repeated, “okay.”

“I love you.” Yuuri kissed him, a succinct touch before scooping his skating bag off the floor.

“I love you, Yuuri,” Viktor echoed as Yuuri found his way to the door.

The walk home left Yuuri chilly, but the apartment was warm. The warmth, however strong, could not dissipate the chill he felt beneath his ribs. Sighing, Yuuri knelt down to pet Makkachin, who greeted him at the door. “Such a good girl,” he praised her. She licked Yuuri’s cheek, and he couldn’t help but manage a small smile. “Thank you; I love you, too.”

He put on his favorite pair of sweats and a comfy shirt, and one of Viktor's sweatshirts. It wasn't long until Yuuri was settled in bed with Makkachin, trying to distract himself from foreboding thoughts with television and mobile apps. He lasted about twenty minutes before becoming restless, his eyes burning though he had no real reason to cry.

Yuuri hugged Makkachin close, the collapsing feeling in his chest dissipating the slightest bit. The dog whimpered and snuggled him back as if to ask, _what's wrong, Yuuri_?

As stupid as it seemed, Yuuri answered her, whispering into her fur, “I'm sad, Makka, and I've got no reason to be.”

Makkachin nuzzled him again, licking his face as Yuuri's phone vibrated. It happened once, and then again.

 **Vitya:** Are you okay, my love?

Yuuri snapped a quick photo of he and Makkachin cuddled up, sending it to Viktor. He then opened the second text message.

 **Yurio:** Why did you leave practice, Pig?

Yuuri sighed, torn between pretending to be fine and spilling his guts to Yuri. How could he expect Yuri to open up to him if he wasn't willing to do the same? Yuuri settled on a compromise, sending a simple text back. “Because the world is crumbling around me today.”

The last thing Yuuri is expecting is a knock at the door just a half hour later.


	3. Tough Love

“Yurio?”

Yuuri stared in disbelief at the teenager in front of him, his hoodie pulled up over his head. Scoffing, Yuri pushed past him and placed a takeout bag on the counter. “Here,” he muttered. “I'm leaving now.”

Yuuri didn't register until Yuri was halfway back to the door, and he reached out to grab Yuri's sweatshirt sleeve. “Wait a second, I…” Yuuri sighed, shaking his head. “Does Viktor know you're here?”

“No. I have to get back to the rink,” Yuri replied shortly, though he didn't move away from where Yuuri held his sweatshirt in his thumb and index finger.

“Wait, will you… will you stay for a little bit? You came all this way to bring me food; you should stay and eat with me.”

Finally, Yuri scoffed. “If you want somebody to sit here and be your friend, call Viktor. I have to get back to practice.”

Yuuri was torn between wanting to launch himself into an embrace with Yuri and wanting to cry. Kind gestures coupled with cruel words left him splintering from the inside out, and his lip began to tremble against his will. After a few beats of silence, Yuuri managed, “if we aren't friends, then why did you come here in the first place?”

Yuri yanked himself away from Yuuri, teeth clearly clenched as he spun around. “Because you did the same for me. Now we're even, okay?”

Quietly, Yuuri pointed out, “it's not about being even.”

“Goodbye, Pig. You better fucking show up to practice tomorrow.”

Yuri crossed the remainder of the room is quick strides, the door slamming shut behind him. The emptiness left Yuuri even closer to breaking than before, a swirling in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He was despicable, he was selfish. He let the tears he'd been holding back leak from his eyes as he muffled a sob, rushing from the living area and back into the bedroom. He threw himself back on the bed, beginning to cry into his pillow as Makkachin nuzzled him with her nose.

He was selfish, for asking Yuri to stay. He was selfish, for worrying Viktor. He was disgusting and needy, and it was a wonder that he managed to keep it together on and off. The world caved in a little bit more, and the room felt smaller. Self-depreciation took center stage, and Yuuri was crushed under the weight of it. Yuuri didn't hear his phone vibrate- not once, or twice.

Time slowed. Yuuri didn’t know how long he was crying into Makkachin’s fur before he heard the front door slam shut, and sneaker-clad footsteps in the hall. “Yuuri?” He looked up with puffy eyes just as Viktor threw open the bedroom door, visibly deflating. “Yuuri,” he whispered, softer.

Viktor’s sneakers were toed off before he joined Yuuri on the bed, spooning him from behind. Realization overcame Yuuri, and it made him start to sob again. “I forgot to… text you.” How was he always so selfish? “I’m so sorry, Vitya,” he sobbed, shuddering.

Viktor pressed endless kisses to Yuuri’s hair, breathing heavily against his scalp. His breathing was erratic, and it was obvious that he’d gotten to the apartment in a hurry. “Don’t apologize, my love. It’s okay. I was just worried, and then Yurio… he looked scared when I asked if he’d heard from you. He told me he came here and… he may have accidentally upset you.”

Yuuri shook his head, choking on a sob. “He didn’t… it wasn’t his fault. I was being… needy and selfish. I asked him to stay.”

Viktor sighed, reaching around to thumb at Yuuri’s tears. “That isn’t needy or selfish.” Under his breath, Viktor scowled. “He should have stayed, the little br-”

“He needs to practice. _You_ need to practice. All I do is keep people from doing what they need to do!” Yuuri tried to pull away from Viktor, but was only held tighter. “I’m a burden,” he lamented quietly.

“That’s what your mind wants you to think right now, but you know deep inside that it isn’t true.” Viktor calmly ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, soothing him. “I love you and I need you, Yuuri. I would be lost without you.”

“I love you, Vitya,” Yuuri affirmed shakily.

Yuuri didn’t realize how much calmer he had become until Viktor sighed, rubbing his hand over the small of Yuuri’s back. “Better?”

Yuuri nodded, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, a little. I’m sor-”

“Shh,” Viktor cut him off with a shushing and warm lips against his. “Are you up to having a bubble bath? I’ll bring you some tea.”

Yuuri nodded gratefully. It was a struggle to get up from the bed, even to make the short walk to the bathroom. Yuuri stared at himself in the mirror for a moment- puffy eyes, tear-stained face. He was disgusted with himself, but he tried not to let it show as Viktor filled the bathtub for him. He kept a brave face as Viktor helped him out of his clothes, and as he settled in the warm water.

“I’ll be right back,” Viktor murmured, kissing Yuuri’s head before leaving the room.

Yuuri cringed when he heard Viktor speaking quietly into his phone. He heard an angry hiss, in Russian, though he couldn’t understand most of the conversation. He picked up a few words- “worried”, “fragile”, “stayed”. Yuuri sunk deeper into the water, guilt swimming inside of him. Now Yuri was getting yelled at, when it wasn’t his fault that Yuuri felt this way. He was under no obligation to stay.

As soon as Viktor was off the phone and Yuuri heard the tea kettle being filled, his phone vibrated. Drying his hand on a nearby towel and picking it up from the lip of the tub, Yuuri’s heart dropped when he saw a text from Yuri.

 **Yurio:** You _seemed_ okay.

 **Yuuri:** I am okay.

 **Yurio:** Viktor said you were having a fit.

 **Yuuri:** I was just upset. I’m having a bad day, it wasn’t your fault.

 **Yurio:** I would have stayed if I knew it was that important, Pig.

Viktor entered the room, then, preventing Yuuri from thanking Yuri, even if his message was a bit harsh. He smiled at Yuuri, placing a cup of tea on the lip of the tub. “Green tea, no sugar,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispered. “You always take such good care of me, Viktor.”

He was rewarded with a kiss to the top of his head, and gentle words near his ear. “Because I love you, my Yuuri.”


	4. Weakness and Strength

It took every ounce of willpower for Yuuri to drag himself to practice the next day. The only reason he did was because of Viktor- after yesterday, there was no way he was going to leave Yuuri alone all day. When it was about Viktor’s progress rather than his own, it was easier for Yuuri to pull himself together. He slapped a bandaid on the cracked world, trying to hold it together, just for the day.

It took him longer than usual to get stretched. Each movement he made left his arms and legs aching, weighed down as if they were made of lead. Yuuri didn't miss the glares Viktor shot at Yuri as the three of them stretched, or the way Yuri refused to make eye contact with him. Yuuri wanted to crumble as he laced his skates, and he wanted to break when Viktor was summoned into Yakov's office, leaving him alone on the bench with Yuri.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri began, “sorry for not answering your text, I really apprec-”

“Shut up, Pig,” Yuri hissed, yanking at the laces of his skates. “I don't care about a text.”

Yuuri frowned, the teenager's words prickling at his fragile skin. “Please take it easy on me today,” he finally managed. He swallowed hard, waiting for Yuri to berate him even further, to tell him how weak he was.

Instead, Yuri ran his fingers through his blonde locks, sucking in a deep breath. He nodded, clearing his throat. “Okay,” he agreed.

Yuuri, his skates on, sunk into himself. He dropped his head into his hands, shutting his eyes as he waited for Viktor. “I really don't want to be here,” he found himself confiding in Yuri.

“Then why are you here?” Yuri asked bluntly.

“Because I've caused Viktor enough trouble. He can't miss more practice because of me.”

Yuri scoffed. “The only person that ever causes him trouble is himself.”

“He left early yesterday because I was an idiot and forgot to text him back,” Yuuri retorted, raising his head. Green eyes stared at him, harsh.

“He wasn't concentrating without you here, anyway. Kept sneaking away to check his phone and text you.”

For a moment, Yuuri thought the words were meant to make him feel even guiltier. Then, he realized that they were meant to show Yuuri that Viktor cared, that he loved him. Taking a deep breath, Yuuri whispered, “that's what he does when you stay home, too.”

A few beats of silence filled the room, Yuri's composure cracking just the slightest. He seemed to be fighting wearing that expression he held at the waterfall, his lips trembling as he wet them with his tongue. “Well he's an idiot, then.”

Yuuri shook his head, smiling the slightest bit. “He cares about you, Yurio.”

His face contorted back into annoyance at the drop of a hat. “That's not my fucking name,” he snarled.

Sucking in a deep breath, Yuuri locked eyes with him. “And my name isn't ‘Pig', either.” When Yuri stared in silence for a moment more, Yuuri added, “Okay, Yuri?”

Huffing quietly, Yuri muttered, “Okay… Yuuri.”

It was then that Viktor returned, stepping into the room and freezing. His eyes raked over both Yuuri and Yuri, trying to evaluate the situation. “Is something going on?”

Yuuri shook his head, trying to put on a brave face. “No, we should get on the ice though. Yakov will shout if we aren’t warmed up properly.”

Viktor’s face softened. He nodded as he held out his hand, helping Yuuri off the bench. Yuuri’s heart was still heavy as Yuri walked ahead of them, acting as if the exchange hadn’t even happened. Though Viktor’s arm was warm and steady around his shoulders, Yuuri still felt as if he were collapsing. He started counting down the hours until he would be able to go home. 

Yuuri’s chest ached more and more as time went on, and his skating started to suffer. He couldn’t keep his concentration; his thoughts were spiralling, and his brain wasn’t working. After flubbing the same jump for the fourth time, Yuuri stayed down with his hands pressed against the ice. He couldn’t do this- his chest heaved with a silent, dry sob.

“Get up,” came a voice from above.

Yuuri shook his head, fingers scraping the ice as he felt hot tears brimming in his eyes. “I can’t, Yuri.”

“Viktor is right upstairs teaching the kids stretches; If I go get him, he’ll take you home and you’ll feel even worse.” Yuuri finally looked up, seeing Yuri standing in front of him, hands on his hips. “Get _up_ ,” he ordered once more.

Yuuri found himself nodding and scrambling to his feet. Yuri grabbed his arm, rather roughly, leading him off the ice. He habitually slid on his skate guards as Yuri did the same, his hand coming back up to grab Yuuri’s arm again after. Yuuri allowed himself to be led into the locker room and shoved onto a bench, Yuri standing opposite him. He leaned against the lockers with his arms crossed, scowling.

“You’re going to crack your head open if you keep skating like that,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispered, hands gripping the edge of the wooden bench.

Yuri scoffed, kicking the locker with the back of his skate. “I don’t feel good,” Yuri mumbled.

“Are you going to be sick? Should I get Yak-”

“I want to go home,” Yuri clarified. “And you’re coming with me.”

Yuuri sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t have to-”

“My apartment is a wreck, though.” Yuri sat on the bench next to Yuuri, his mind clearly made up. “So we’re going to yours. Get your sneakers on.”

Yuuri sighed, grateful to Yuri, even if he was still being a bit harsh. It was obvious that he cared, and he wanted to get Yuuri home. Despite every instinct to say no again, Yuuri nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he murmured.

A text was sent to Viktor from Yuri’s phone, but Yuuri still felt the need to tell him where they were going, as well. Viktor was worried, but Yuuri assured him that he would be fine. “I’m still feeling down and Yuri is feeling sick; we’re going to go back to the apartment for the rest of the day.”

 **Vitya:** I can come with you, love.

 **Yuuri:** I’m in good hands, Vitya. I’ll text you if we need anything. Please concentrate on practicing. 

Upon putting his phone away, Yuuri met Yuri in the lobby. “You ready?” The teenager asked. 

Yuuri nodded, following Yuri out the door. As they walked home in silence, Yuuri couldn’t help but realize- they shared the same name, but they were quite different. As he watched Yuri walk down the street in purposeful strides, he realized what set them apart. Yuri was stronger than he could ever be.


	5. Alone

“Do you have pay-per-view?” Yuri made himself right at home, flopping onto the couch with the remote in hand. 

Yuuri nodded, greeting Makkachin before joining Yuri on the couch. “Yeah; rent whatever you want to watch.”

Yuuri curled up on the other side of the couch as Yuri scrolled through the movie section, wrapping a throw blanket around himself. “This one has the subtitles in Japanese,” Yuri finally spoke, tilting his head at the TV.

Yuuri smiled, nodding. “That would be good,” he murmured. He curled deeper into the blanket as Yuri rented the movie, resting his head on the arm of the couch. “I’m sorry you’re missing practice because of me,” he added, quieter.

“I didn’t want to be there, either,” Yuri admitted, his eyes still glued to the TV.

Yuuri raked his eyes over Yuri, looking for any sign of openness or willingness to talk. “Are you alright?” Yuuri finally asked.

Yuri scoffed, shrugging. “Better than you.”

Yuuri frowned, reaching across the small space between them to tug at Yuri’s sweatshirt sleeve. “Didn’t you say you’d go easy on me today?” He asked, pouting when Yuri finally looked at him. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Yuri mumbled.

Yuuri’s hand was still pinching the fabric of Yuri’s sweatshirt, but he let go in favor of placing it over Yuri’s, which was resting on the seat of the couch. Yuri flinched slightly, but didn’t pull away as Yuuri’s fingers enclosed themselves over his own. Yuuri squeezed gently, watching as Yuri’s viridans grew as wide as they did that day under the waterfall.

“Thanks.”

Scowling, Yuri muttered, “you’re being a freak.” But, he didn’t pull himself from Yuuri’s gentle grasp. It was all the encouragement that Yuuri needed to leave his hand where it was.

Yuuri didn’t register when he fell asleep, but sometime during the movie, he must have. He awoke with a crick in his neck, his head resting half on the back of the couch and half on Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri was asleep, as well, his head on the arm of the couch and his chest rising in deep, even breaths. As nimbly as possible, Yuuri raised his head, moving back to the other end of the couch. He took the extra throw blanket from behind him and placed it carefully over Yuri’s frame, going as far as to brush the younger’s bangs out of his face.

The action stirred him, but only slightly. He whimpered quietly, curling up further. Yuuri was still close enough that when Yuri whimpered again, he found himself reaching out. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, carding his fingers through Yuri’s locks. “S’okay.”

In his sleep haze, Yuri keened at the touch. He visibly relaxed, eyelids twitching as he fell back into a peaceful sleep. Yuuri smiled, carefully moving back to the other end of the couch and curling up, himself. He watched the rise and fall of Yuri’s chest for a few moments before shutting his own eyes, the buzz of the TV and Yuri’s soft breaths filling his ears. Before he knew it, he was drifting off once more.

When Yuuri awoke for the second time, it was to a gentle touch on his cheek. Viktor’s soft voice filled his ear, Russian words that Yuuri only understood half of. “Vitya?”

“Wake up, sleepyhead. I brought home dinner,” he tried again in English.

Yuuri’s eyes blinked open to find Viktor kneeling down in front of the couch, eyes twinkling and hand still cupping Yuuri’s cheek. “Where’s Yuri?” Yuuri yawned, eyes drifting closed again.

“Still sleeping, love. Why don’t you wake him up while I set the table?”

Yuuri groaned, but opened his eyes again. Blinking, he found Yuri in the position he had left him, curled up on the other end of the couch. In his sleepy state, Yuuri easily moved over to him and rubbed his upper arm, trying to nudge him awake. “Yuri, dinner. Come on, we’re going to eat.”

Yuri grumbled, shoving Yuuri away without a second thought. Bleary eyes opening, he glared at the older man. “I don’t wanna have dinner with you old men.”

“Too bad,” Yuuri mumbled, standing up and pulling Yuri with him. They both remained wrapped in throw blankets as Yuuri led Yuri into the dining room, finding Viktor already seated and the table set. “Mmm, smells good.”

Yuri grumbled as he sat down next to Yuuri, wrapping himself deeper in the blanket. “Smells good,” he agreed miserably.

They ate in near silence, Yuuri hyper-aware of every glance that Viktor kept stealing between he and Yuri. It was obvious that he was concerned. Clearing his throat, Yuuri made an effort to speak. “Yuri and I watched a movie this afternoon. It had Japanese subtitles,” he offered.

Yuri nodded, snickering. “We fell asleep halfway through, I don’t think that really counts.”

Yuuri frowned, rolling his eyes when they locked with Yuri’s. “It still counts. We watched _some_ of it.”

“Okay, fine,” Yuri conceded, returning Yuuri’s eye roll as he took another bite of his dinner.

Viktor brightened up, suggesting, “if you didn’t finish the film, why don’t we all watch it together after supper?”

Yuri groaned, placing down his fork. “Haven’t I spent enough time here today?” He whined.

Yuuri only snickered, shaking his head. “Nope, I don’t think so. Anyway, you’ll feel better here instead of at home, alone.”

Yuri scoffed, “maybe I _like_ being alone; did you ever think of that?”

Yuuri pondered that for a moment, the wiring in his brain short-circuiting for a moment. No, Yuri didn’t like to be alone. He forced himself to be alone, because he was depressed, and he was scared to let people in. Finally, Yuuri shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s true.” Quieter, for only Yuri to hear, he added, “and you don’t need to be alone anymore. We’re here.”

Yuri’s lip trembled unmistakably as he nodded. “Okay.”


	6. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be very, very triggering to some. Please don't read unless you have read and are okay with these tags in this work.

Yuuri didn't hesitate to call Yuri when he didn't show up to practice the next day. He even beat Viktor to it, pulling out his phone and dialing before Viktor had even reached into his pocket. When Viktor reached for the phone, Yuuri shook his head, stepping away for some privacy.

“What do you want?”

Yuuri sighed, rolling his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I’m _fine_. I have a cold.”

“Yuri,” Yuuri argued, “I’ve seen you come to practice half dead with your nose running off your face before. You don’t have a cold.”

It was silent for a moment, and then Yuri sighed heavily. “I’m tired, okay? Just leave me alone.”

Yuuri barely suppressed a scowl. “I won’t leave you alone; we’ll bring you some dinner by later on, okay?”

“Don’t,” Yuri whispered.

“Why not?”

Again, it took Yuri a moment to respond. “I don’t want to see anybody, especially not you idiots.”

“Yuri.”

“Leave me al-”

“ _Yuri_.”

“ _What?_ ”

“You’re sure you’re okay? We won’t come by if you really don’t want us to.” Yuuri waited patiently, expecting Yuri to break down and admit he wanted dinner, even if he wouldn’t admit he wanted to see Yuuri and Viktor.

“I’m fine. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.” 

And with that, the line went dead in Yuuri’s ear. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Yuuri headed back out to practice.

Two days in a row was enough for Yuuri to worry. When Yuri didn’t come to practice the next day, Yuuri immediately dialed his phone. When it went to voicemail, he got Viktor, who stormed right into Yakov’s office. He emerged a few minutes later with a keyring in his hand, and grabbed Yuuri’s arm.

“What are we-”

“Yakov has a spare key to his apartment,” Viktor explained as he dragged Yuuri out through the lobby.

The walk to Yuri’s apartment wasn’t a long one, but Yuuri struggled to keep Viktor’s pace- he was nearly running down the street. The same sinking feeling from the day before returned to Yuuri’s gut, but with much more vengeance. He had never seen Viktor this worried before.

“Maybe he just overslept, or something,” he suggested in an attempt to calm Viktor down.

Viktor nodded, his hands tightening into two clenched fists. “Maybe,” he whispered.

Yuuri dropped it after that, not speaking for the remainder of the short walk. Viktor paused when they got to the apartment, hand frozen on the door. “You should stay here,” he muttered.

“No, I'm coming in,” Yuuri argued, letting his hand join Viktor’s on the door to the building and pushing it open for him. 

Viktor didn't bother giving one courtesy knock; he jammed a key right into the lock, twisting the door open and calling Yuri's name. He didn't receive a response. The kitchen and living room were empty, save for a mess in both rooms. Yuuri followed Viktor into Yuri's bedroom, an apology ready to fall from his lips from intruding on his privacy. The apology never came, instead getting swallowed down and coming back up as a horrified gasp.

“Yuri, oh my god!”

Viktor was at his side as Yuuri remained frozen in the doorframe, watching as Viktor pulled Yuri's limp body into his arms. His hand gently tapped Yuri's cheek, bringing a hint of pink back into his translucent skin. He looked half-dead, his eyes shut and face pale. There was a trail of foamy liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth.. Viktor shook the boy roughly, trying to elicit some kind of response from him. He was unable to do so.

Though trembling, Yuuri finally managed to cross the room in wobbly strides. There was a pill bottle on Yuri's night stand, prescription. The words were in Russian, so Yuuri couldn't understand them. He could understand, however, that the bottle was completely empty. Did he take too many on purpose, or was it accidental? Yuuri swallowed the fear inside him and let it turn into a fire in his belly.

Thinking quickly, Yuuri shoved Viktor away from Yuri. “Trash can,” he managed as he held Yuri from behind. “Get a trash can.”

Viktor didn't question him for a second, racing from the room. Yuuri held Yuri upright in his lap, his chest pressed against Yuri's back. When Yuri slurred something unintelligible, Yuuri rubbed his chest, nuzzling into his hair. “It's okay, we're here. It's okay, Yuri.”

“Here,” Viktor joined them on the bed once more, trash can in hand. 

“Hold it under his chin,” Yuuri whispered.

“Under his ch-”

“ _We need to get it out of his system, Viktor!_ ”

He then understood. Viktor held the trash can with one hand while dialing an ambulance with the other. Yuuri sucked in a deep breath, moving his fingers up to Yuri's mouth and pushing then past his lips. Inside his mouth was sticky and warm, and Yuuri felt tears welling up in his eyes.

“I'm sorry, Yuri,” he whispered. “I'm sorry about this.”

And then his moved two fingers to the back of Yuri's throat.

Yuri gagged and fell forward, only moved back into place by Yuuri's arm around him. His fingers were pulled out as Yuri began to retch, whimpering as he did so. Yuuri wiped his hand, now covered in a white film, on his pants before moving it to Yuri's back. He rubbed small circles as Yuri vomited, kissing his hair.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” Yuuri whispered into his blonde locks. “You have to get it out; I’m sorry.”

Yuri groaned as he spilled the contents of his stomach. Viktor, still on the phone, seemed to be updating the dispatcher about Yuri’s condition in Russian. Yuuri nuzzled into Yuri’s hair, gasping as hot tears leaked from his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Yuri.”

Viktor remained on the phone, and Yuuri did everything he could to let Yuri know that it was going to be okay. He didn't know what Yuri could comprehend, if anything at all. Eventually, the vomiting stopped. Yuuri wiped Yuri's mouth on his sleeve without a second thought, letting him sag back against him. He wiped the sweat from Yuri's brow with his clean sleeve as he cradled him, pressing his lips to Yuri's temple.

As sirens wailed, growing closer and closer, Yuuri offered one last reassurance; “we love you; it's going to be okay.”


	7. Breaking Point

They pumped his stomach until it was empty.

Yuuri had to leave the room twice, unable to handle the scene in front of him. The second time, he sobbed into his hands in the hallway, gasping in a fit of panic until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. A young nurse held a tissue out with her free hand, which Yuuri took gratefully.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

The nurse squeezed his shoulder, answering him in English. “You're here with the little boy?” She whispered, nodding towards the closed door to Yuri's room.

“Yes,” Yuuri croaked, tearing up again.

He gasped as he was pulled into a strong hug, his face pressed into her shoulder. “He will be okay,” she assured him. “He is a fighter.” Internally, Yuuri disagreed. He was going to be alive, but that didn't mean he would be okay.

Time slowed as they stood in that hallway, Yuuri sobbing into a stranger's arms. He would never forget that nurse- her flaxen hair, so much like Yuri’s. Her soft voice, the way her hand felt on his back. He would never forget her dark brown eyes, or the way she refused to leave his side until she was sure that he was okay. Yuuri never got her name.

When Yuuri returned to the hospital room, he found that the doctor and nurses had left, probably long ago. Yuri lay sleeping on the bed, pale and fragile. Viktor was seated next to him, his hands cradling his head. Yuuri slipped into the empty seat next to him, placing his hand on Viktor’s thigh and squeezing it carefully. Viktor raised his head with a broken smile, a hand reaching up to cup Yuuri’s cheek.

“You were so brave today, my Yuuri,” he whispered. “You knew exactly what to do.”

Yuuri sighed, shrugging. “Do you think he was…” Yuuri paused, not wanting to say the words out loud. “Do you think it was on purpose?”

Viktor cleared his throat, moving his free hand to the bed. He placed it over Yuri’s delicately, as if Yuri might crumble beneath the lightest touch. “I don’t know, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri dropped the subject after that. Yuri remained unconscious throughout the day, and into the night. Yuuri and Viktor took turns resting on a hard couch in the corner of his hospital room. In the ache of the morning, Yuri opened his eyes.

“Hey,” Yuuri whispered, brushing back a lock of his hair. 

Yuri's eyes darted from Yuuri to where Viktor slept on the couch, then back again. “My stomach hurts,” he whispered back.

Yuuri's hand drifted from Yuri's locks down to his hand, threading their fingers together. “They had to pump it.”

“I know.” His voice was shaky, broken. “I was kind of… coming in and out, by then.”

It took Yuuri a moment to realize that he was referring to his consciousness. He squeezed Yuri's hand, murmuring, “we don't need to talk about it right now. Rest, if you need to-”

“There's nothing to talk about.”

Yuuri's chest caved in, and he shook his head. “Yuri, you… there is.”

Yuri’s hand trembled in his own, and he could pinpoint the exact moment when his composure broke. “I told you not to come,” he hissed.

Yuuri stared at Yuri’s trembling lip, the dots of liquid threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. It was at that split-second that he realized: they _did_ have to talk about it right now. “I’m glad we did, Yuri,” he whispered desperately. “I’m sorry that we didn’t come sooner. We should have… we should have came over the night before, I didn’t kno-”

“ _Idiot_ ,” Yuri hissed, the tears finally spilling over. “You should have stayed away, I told you to stay away!”

Yuuri felt his insides pulling apart and coming together all at the same time, and the broken whine that escaped him even sounded foreign to him. Yuri didn’t push him away as he moved from the chair, joining Yuri on the bed and wrapping his arms around him. “We’re not going to stay away,” Yuuri whispered. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Yuri crumbled. “It hurts,” he whispered. Hot tears leaked onto Yuuri’s skin where Yuri’s face met his collarbone. “It fucking hurts.”

“I know it does.” Yuuri held him closer, unashamed as he, too, began to cry. “I’ve got you.”

“I hate you,” Yuri sobbed, body wracking from the force. “I hate you for finding me.”

“That’s okay,” Yuuri assured him. “You can hate me.”

Yuri’s hands fisted the front of his shirt hard enough that Yuuri was sure it would be stretched out beyond salvage. He didn’t care. He held Yuri until the crying stopped, until he could breathe again. He held him even after his hands fell from his Yuuri’s shirt, and his sniffles died down to nothing. He held him as tightly as he could, running his fingers through stringy, blonde hair.

“We need you, Yuri,” he whispered. “We’re selfish, and we need you here with us.”

“Idiots,” Yuri spat, though his voice was weak. “You’re both fucking idiots.”

Yuri didn’t move from his arms, though. Not even as Yuuri pressed a kiss to his head, or began to rub his back. He didn’t even move when Viktor stirred, sitting up with bleary eyes and jumping up at the sight of Yuri being awake. He joined them on the bed without hesitation, arms tangling with Yuuri and Yuri’s.

He whispered things in Russian for Yuuri not to understand, tears streaming down his cheeks. It only served to make Yuri begin crying again, whimpering in English, “you never cry, Vitya. Don’t cry.”

“I thought you were going to _die_ , Yura,” Viktor sobbed, all composure lost.

“Viktor,” Yuuri whispered, “don’t-”

“I’m sorry, Vitya.” Yuri’s hands reached up to wipe away Viktor’s tears clumsily. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Viktor countered quietly. He pressed his lips to Yuri’s hair before whispering, “I said I would always be there.”

Yuuri didn’t have the heart to ask what he meant by that. Viktor was still sniffling when a doctor entered the room, and he barely managed to pull himself together enough to speak with him.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Plisetsky?”

Yuri shrugged, avoiding eye contact. With his tears dried, he was back to his despondent self in no time. Yuuri saw through his act, though, and squeezed his arm gently before moving back to his chair.

After giving Yuri a brief physical exam and taking his vitals, the doctor asked, “Mr. Plisetsky, a suicide attempt is a very serious incident.”

Yuri remained silent, looking down at his hands. 

“We want to get you the help you need,” the doctor tried again.

“Leave me alone,” Yuri finally mumbled. 

The doctor looked from Viktor to Yuuri and then back again, sighing. “Okay, Mr. Plisetsky. The psychiatric specialist will be here to speak with you soon.” And with that, he was gone.

Alone once more, Yuri shrunk back down. He turned towards Yuuri and Viktor, expression vulnerable. “I want to sleep some more, now. You should go home and sleep, too.”

As much as the idea of sleep sounded appealing, Yuuri found himself shaking his head as Viktor said, “no, Yura. We aren’t leaving you here alone.”


	8. Guilt

Yuri was a shell of himself. A hollow casing that held nothing inside, dead eyes that wouldn't shed another tear. Yuri was broken, and it seemed that he might be broken beyond repair. 

Viktor had overheard him on the phone with his grandfather, and heard that Yuri was lying about why he was hospitalized. After all, he was legally under Yakov and Lilia's care. No one was under any obligation to tell his grandfather the truth.

It was Yuuri who took concern to the lying, but he still didn't have the gall to bring it up to Yuri. Not after what had happened- not while he was still in the hospital, and in a seemingly fragile state.

“Yuri,” he whispered late one night, as Yuri was staring at the ceiling with cold eyes. “They won't let you leave until you speak with the therapist, until you explain why you did this. Don't you want to get back to skating?”

The eyes that focused on him as Yuri turned his head belonged to someone else. These viridans weren’t a springtime grass, but they were a dead, stagnant sea. “I don’t know why you two are still here,” he muttered, avoiding the question entirely. 

“Because we love you,” Yuuri answered without a second thought.

Yuri rolled his eyes, focusing them back up at the ceiling. “Shut the hell up,” he mumbled.

Yuuri let it go, after that. But he didn’t let Yuri go. No, he still held onto hope that he could get him to open up.

Yuuri and Viktor began taking turns sleeping at home- one would stay with Yuri and the other would go home. Both of their backs were aching by the end of the week, but they didn’t care. Yuri was worth every ache and pain. He couldn't see the fingerprints that were left on his heart and on his skin, but they were there. They wouldn't be washed off by water, by time. They were ingrained, a part of him, now. He could explain until he was blue in the face, but he knew that Yuri would never even begin to understand.

“They are sending him home,” Yakov muttered as he pulled Viktor and Yuuri into the hall. “They can’t do anything more for him here.”

Yuuri bit his lip nervously as Viktor spoke the words for him; “But he hasn’t even spoken to the therapist, or-”

“Vitya,” Yakov sighed, placing a seemingly gentle hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “They can’t do anything for him when he refuses to speak. They are sending him home, with no permission to skate until he has gone through an outpatient program.”

“No permission to skate?”

Yuuri swallowed hard, shaking his head. “But skating is all he has,” he whispered, more to himself than to the other men.

“The doctors want him to come stay with me again,” Yakov began. “But I don’t think Lilia and I will have the time to give him the monitoring that he needs. We think that… you and Yuuri might be…” Yakov sighed, dropping his hand from Viktor’s shoulder. “...Better equipped to get through to him. I know it’s a lot of pressure to put on you and a lot to ask of you, so-”

“I’ll make up the guest bedroom tonight, for him,” Viktor cut in.

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “I’ll go to the store and get some food that he likes. When are they… releasing him?”

“Tomorrow,” Yakov muttered. “Listen, you aren’t under any obligation to make a decision about it yet.”

Viktor smiled, cocking his head to the side. “There’s no decision to make,” he said simply. “He will come home with us.”

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “You should get going soon, Vitya,” he murmured. “I’ll go back in and check on Yuri.”

After a succinct kiss to Viktor’s cheek, Yuuri slipped back into Yuri’s room. The teen was laying in bed, facing towards the doorway. They locked eyes for a moment when Yuuri entered, with Yuri closing his almost immediately after seeing who was coming in.

“Hey,” Yuuri greeted him, sitting in a chair close to his bedside. Yuri only grunted in response, flopping over onto his back. Yuuri sighed, resting his elbows on the mattress and propping up his chin in his hands. “They’re releasing you.”

Yuri’s eyes flew open, his head snapping towards Yuuri again so quickly, Yuuri thought he might get whiplash. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” Yuuri told him. He waited a moment before adding, “you can’t be alone, though. You know that.”

Yuri scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, let me guess, they’re sticking me back with Lady Stone Face and the Old Man?”

Yuuri shook his head, biting his lip. “Yakov wants you to come stay with us, instead.” Yuuri left no space for Yuri to argue, immediately adding, “I think it’s a good idea. I think… Maybe we can help, if you… if you let us.”

Yuri’s eyes grew wide before his eyebrows furrowed deep, tching as he looked away. “I don’t need help with anything.” 

Yuuri forced himself to remain unphased, reaching out and placing his hand on Yuri’s bicep. He squeezed it gently, assuring Yuri, “I know how you feel, Yuri. You might deal with it differently, but I understand. And I’m here for you. Viktor is h-”

“Shut up.” Yuri’s voice wasn’t harsh, it wasn’t cold. He croaked the words out, almost as if it was causing him pain to do so. “Just shut up.”

“Okay,” Yuuri agreed quietly. Still, he didn’t move his hand from Yuri’s arm, nor did Yuri push him away. “Okay,” he repeated.

“You don’t think it’s too much responsibility?” Yuri asked suddenly, still not meeting Yuuri’s eyes.

It took Yuuri a moment to realize what he meant, but he ended up shaking his head. “No. We want you to stay with us.”

“You’d feel really guilty,” Yuri argued.

“Guilty?” Yuuri furrowed his brow.

“If I died on your watch.”

Silence hung between them like a fog, and Yuuri resisted every urge to pull back, to leave the room. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath, unashamed of how fragile his voice sounded. “I would,” he whispered. “So please, don’t die, Yuri. If not for you, then for me.”

Yuri didn’t bother to respond.


	9. Tender Care

With his cat, his iPod, and permission to bring snacks into his room, Yuri rarely left it. Viktor seemed worried, but Yuuri tried not to be. They kept his medication locked in their room, and they knew he didn’t have anything that could be harmful in there with him. One of them checked on him every other hour, and he was never left in the apartment alone. Yuuri tried not to let Yuri’s words from the hospital haunt him. 

“Yuri?” Yuuri knocked on the teenager’s door two days after his release from the hospital. “Dinner is here, come and eat.”

It took a few moments and some shuffling, but the door opened. Yuuri smiled sadly at the sight in front of him- Yuri looked paler and thinner than he’d been before, his hair tangled and his clothes looking worn. Had he changed them, since he’d been here? Yuuri tried to ignore his appearance. 

“We got pizza. Pepperoni, your favorite.”

Yuri shrugged, pushing past Yuuri. “I shouldn’t be eating that shit since I can’t even fucking skate. I’ll get fat.”

“Yuri,” Yuuri argued, “you’re wasting away. You’re too skinny.”

Viktor was already at the table as Yuri sat down with a huff, glaring at the piece of pizza that Viktor placed in front of im. “He’s right,” Viktor agreed. “You’re too thin, and Yakov wouldn’t let you skate in this condition, anyway. You know that.”

“Whatever,” Yuri mumbled, taking a small bite.

“Your cat is really pretty,” Yuuri complimented as he sat down, noticing the feline sauntering out into the dining room to join them.

Yuri shrugged, glancing down at the feline with a hint of fondness. “It’s because I brush her everyday.”

Yuuri smiled, taking a bite of his pizza. “I’m sure she appreciates that a lot, how well you take care of her.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, taking a larger bite of pizza. “You’re so weird.”

Yuri ended up eating two slices of pizza, which caused a look of relief to spread across Viktor’s face. Yuuri smiled at him encouragingly, as if to assure him that Yuri would be just fine. After dinner, Yuri declined their offer to watch a movie together in the living room, but did agree to a shower at Viktor’s suggestion. Yuuri made sure to lay out their fluffiest towel for him on the bathroom countertop.

Yuuri waited until he heard Yuri scramble back across the hall to his room to knock on the door, asking, “can I have your clothes? I’ll wash them for you tomorrow.”

He heard a soft grumbling, but then a light shuffling. The door opened, and Yuri stood with a small pile of clothes in his arms. “Here,” he muttered, holding them out. Yuuri didn’t take them yet, his eyes fixated on the wet, tangled mess that was Yuri’s hair. 

“Can I comb your hair, Yuri?” He asked quietly.

Yuri’s eyes went wide, his hand automatically retracting the offered clothes. His cheeks grew red as he stammered, “w-why? I can do it just fine myself!”

Yuuri reached out, his fingers touching the knotted strands. “Then why haven’t you?”

Yuuri already knew the answer- because he hadn’t even been able to bring himself to shower for two days. Because he felt like garbage. Because he was depressed, he felt like a burden, he was lonely and probably a bit afraid. When Yuuri didn’t receive an answer, he pushed his way into Yuri’s room.

“I’ll comb your hair,” he tried again, this time leaving no room for argument.

Yuuri ended up on Yuri’s bed with a bottle of detangler and a fine-tooth comb. He leaned back against the headboard with Yuri begrudgingly between his legs, hair splayed over his shoulders. “I know it’s hard to take care of yourself sometimes,” Yuuri murmured as he sprayed detangler onto Yuri’s locks. “But if you need help, don’t be embarrassed to ask. We want to help you.”

Yuri was quiet for a moment, until Yuuri began to gently nip at the bottom of his hair with the comb. “It got so bad that I didn’t think I’d be able to get the knots out if I tried,” he admitted.

Yuuri combed gently, knowing it would take him hours to fix the nest of Yuri’s hair. Still, he didn’t tell Yuri that. “When I was a child, my older sister came home from school one day crying,” he began. Yuri winced as Yuuri accidentally tugged a strand of his hair, and Yuuri rubbed his scalp in silent apology. “She said that these boys chased her home and spit gum into her hair, and she was so scared of telling Mama and Papa because she knew they would cause a fuss at the school and embarrass her.”

“Was it bad?” Yuri ventured.

“Mhm.” Yuuri smoothed out a tiny section of Yuri’s hair that seemed to be knot-free, smiling. “She begged me to help her comb it out, so we took peanut butter and a comb and we sat there for hours. I got all the gum out and them combed and combed, until her hair was back to normal. It took a while, and she lost some strands, but it wasn’t as bad as having to cut the gum out.”

Yuri sighed, leaning back the slightest bit. “So what you’re saying is that it’s not so bad?”

Yuuri nodded, though Yuri couldn’t see the action. “Yeah, it’s not so bad. I’m sure I can fix it.”

It was quiet, almost inaudible. But Yuuri heard Yuri answer him, “thanks.”

It took Yuuri three hours to comb the knots out of Yuri’s hair. By the time he was done, they were both exhausted. Yuri continuously fell back into Yuuri, barely able to keep himself upright. Soft encouragements of “we’re almost done” and “just a bit more” had hardly helped to keep him motivated.

“There we go,” Yuuri finally whispered. “Finished.”

Yuri reached up and ran his fingers through his now-dry hair, sighing with relief. “There’s still hair there,” he muttered.

“Yup,” Yuuri agreed, running his fingers through the blond locks, as well. “Viktor is probably asleep by now,” Yuuri mused, glancing at the clock on Yuri’s bedside table.

“Sorry,” Yuri muttered, pulling himself away from Yuuri.

“No, no,” Yuuri assured him. “I’m glad I got to spend time with you.”

Yuri scowled, shaking his head. “Stop being weird.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said with a shrug. He moved to the edge of the bed, stopping halfway. “Goodnight, Yuri,” he whispered, reaching out and pulling him into a tight hug. He wasn’t hugged back, but Yuri also failed to shove him away or protest. It was progress, in Yuuri’s eyes.

“Goodnight,” Yuri muttered as he headed out the door.


	10. Friendship

“I’m worried,” Viktor whispered as they laid in bed.

Yuuri brushed back Viktor’s bangs, nodding in agreement. “I know, Vitya. I’m worried too. We just… we have to give him time, to open up.”

Viktor exhaled shakily, rolling away from Yuuri and turning onto his back. He laid his arm over his eyes, shaking his head. “What if we can’t get through to him soon enough? He already… tried to…” Viktor trailed off, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Yuuri reached out, his hand rubbing small circles on Viktor’s chest. “I think he’s getting there, Vitya. He needs time. We’re here, we’re watching him. We will make sure that he i-”

The thump out in the living room was loud, and it couldn’t have possibly come from Makkachin or the cat. But, Yuuri hadn’t heard any doors open, so there was no way that Yuri could have…

Yuuri jumped from the bed with Viktor close behind, throwing open the bedroom door and rushing into the hallway. Yuuri fumed as he flicked on the living room light, finding Yuri frozen in the foyer, his skating bag in hand and a photo frame on the hardwood floor.

“Yura, what do you think you’re doing?” Viktor nearly shouted, reaching out and grabbing Yuri by the arm.

“Fuck off!” Yuri shouted, shoving away from Viktor’s grasp. “Don’t touch me!”

Yuuri stepped forward, trying to separate them with his hands and de-escalate the situation. “Vitya, let go of him, please.”

Viktor ignored him, grabbing the skating bag from Yuri and tossing it onto the floor. He shouted in Russian, so quickly that Yuuri failed to catch a single word. Yuuri fought to pull his hand from Yuri’s arm, finally succeeding as tears began to spill over Yuri’s cheeks. He held onto Yuri tightly.

“Fuck you,” he croaked in Russian, eyes glued on Viktor.

Viktor shook his head, grabbing the skating bag from the floor. “You don’t need this in your bedroom,” he hissed as he moved back down the hall. Yuri shuddered in his arms as their bedroom door slammed behind Viktor. He didn’t come back out into the living room.

“Hey, come here.”

Yuuri didn’t wait for a reaction,pulling him closer. Yuri broke down in his arms, burying his face in Yuuri’s chest. “He’s such a fucking asshole!”

“Shh, shh.” Yuuri gently guided Yuri towards the couch, not letting go for a second as he sat them both down. “He loves you, Yuri. He loves you so much. He’s just so worried about you, that’s why he’s angry.”

“He’s a fucking _asshole_ ,” Yuri repeated, fisting the front of Yuuri’s shirt as he cried.

Yuuri stroked his blonde locks thoughtfully, going as far as kissing the top of his head. “You were going to skate?”

Yuri sniffled, taking in a wet, shaky breath. “Y-yeah.”

Yuuri leaned back against the couch cushions, adjusting Yuri to rest his head on his shoulder. “It helps you?”

Yuri wiped at his face with his sweatshirt sleeve, nodding. "There are all these feelings inside my chest, and they do nothing but explode and then explode again, but the aftermath has nowhere to go. It's all just… trapped behind my ribs,” Yuri opened up. “And sometimes when I skate, it… has somewhere to go.”

Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief, leaning his head against Yuri’s. “You can tell me these things, you know. Even if you think I won’t understand them, or I can’t help. You can still tell me.”

Yuri shrugged, hiding his face in Yuuri’s shoulder. “If you gave half a shit, you’d let me skate.”

Yuuri leaned down, burying his face in Yuri’s hair. “I didn’t agree with the doctor’s decision, Yuri. Taking away someone’s only outlet doesn’t help them to heal. I know that.”

Yuri shoved away from him, cheeks growing red as his jaw clenched. “Then why didn’t you… say something? Do something?”

Yuuri reached out, not taken aback by the sudden anger. “Please, come here. I _did_ say something, and they… they didn’t care to listen.” Yesterday, Yuuri was afraid for Yuri’s health. Today, he was afraid of the lessons Yuri would learn, and of the harsh reality that had set inside Yuuri, himself, so many years ago. “Sometimes, the people in charge don’t always know what’s best for someone.”

“They’re assholes, too,” Yuri retorted.

Yuuri nodded, pulling Yuri back into his arms. “It would help if you would talk to someone. Then you could make them understand.”

“Quit hugging me, you asshole,” Yuri mumbled, though he didn’t pull away.

Yuuri ignored him, resting his chin on the top of his head. “He’ll apologize when he cools down.”

Yuri scoffed, the sound vibrating against Yuuri’s chest before he pulled back to an arm’s length. “I don’t need a fucking apology.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Yuuri suggested, watching Yuri’s face contort with confusion.

“It’s almost eleven o’clock,” he balked, shaking his head. “Are you nuts?”

Yuuri smiled, shrugging. “It’s my day to stay home with you tomorrow, so who cares if we sleep late? It might help you to get some fresh air.”

“Fresh air,” Yuri scoffed. “You’re so annoying.” He paused, shifting momentarily on the couch. “If you want to, though… I know a 24-hour diner nearby. They have great pirozhki.”

Yuuri smiled, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. “I’d love that. I’ll just go get dressed, and then we can-”

Yuri’s hand grabbed his arm as he moved to stand, pulling him back down onto the couch. “Why are you like this?” His voice was hardly a whisper. “Why are you always so kind to people… even if they’ve done nothing to deserve it?” his hand fell from Yuuri’s arm.

Yuuri tilted his head, frowning. “Are you implying that you don’t deserve my kindness?”

Yuri looked away, shrugging. “I’ve never been kind to you.”

Yuuri shook his head. “You have been. When you helped me with my quad salchow. When you pushed me to try my best to beat you. When you brought me dinner that day I left practice, when you took me home because you knew I couldn’t be at the ri-”

“That’s not-” Yuri groaned, burying his face in his hands. “That’s just what any decent person would do. You do so much more for me.”

Yuuri rubbed Yuri’s upper back soothingly, assuring him, “I love you, I care about you, and I want to do these things. You’re my friend, Yuri.”

“I don’t understand why,” Yuri muttered, sliding his hands off his face.

“That’s okay,” Yuuri murmured, hand still on his back. “You don’t need to understand. Just stay with me, and keep being my friend.”


	11. The Secrets We Keep

The night air was cold, and Yuuri shivered through his thick coat. It never grew quite this cold in Japan, and even with spending his entire life on the ice, Yuuri didn’t think he would get used to it. When he shivered for the second time, Yuri chuckled softly, moving closer to him on the narrow sidewalk.

“You’re such a baby,” he chided. Still, Yuuri took him moving closer as a silent invitation, and he linked their arms together before sliding his hand back into his pocket.

“I’m not a baby, you and Viktor are just secretly snowmen, I have come to realize.”

Yuri scoffed, pulling Yuuri along a bit faster. “The quicker we get there, the quicker you can thaw out,” he muttered.

“I’ll have a cup of tea, I think.”

“This late?” Yuri turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

Yuuri rolled his eyes in return, shrugging. “I’m old, I need caffeine to stay up past midnight,” he retorted, causing Yuri to snicker. They walked in silence after that, but Yuri didn’t pull away from Yuuri for a second.

It wasn’t much longer before they were seated in an old diner, a plate of pirozhki in front of them. Yuuri sipped on his tea, watching as Yuri sipped at his water, moving a pirozhki to his plate. He took a bite and chewed carefully, while Yuuri waited for a sign of approval.

Yuri grinned after swallowing, giving Yuuri a thumbs up. “It’s good.”

Yuuri took one for himself, biting into it and finding it filled with meat. It was delicious, and he returned Yuri’s thumbs up. He swallowed, watching as Yuri took another bite of his own. “I need to listen to you more often,” he announced. “You have good ideas.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, swallowing and then taking a sip of his water. “You’re so annoying,” he groaned.

Yuuri was tempted to reveal the key he had slipped into his pocket from Viktor’s nightstand, but held back for the time being. He instead let his hand drift down, fingering the cool metal for a few moments before going back to his food. 

“We’ll see how you feel about me later on.”

He gave Yuuri a blank stare before rolling his eyes, but he didn’t try to press for information. Yuuri smiled slyly, taking another bite of his pirozhki.

“Where are we _going_?” Yuri grumbled back on the streets, Yuuri once again huddled close and trying not to shiver.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Yuuri told him, giving in to the urge to shiver.

Yuri scoffed, moving closer. “Not if you freeze to death before we get there,” he retorted.

“So mean,” Yuuri sighed dramatically. “You’ll feel really bad if I actually do turn into a popsicle, now, you know.”

“Just tell me where we’re going,” Yuri groaned.

“Nah,” Yuuri teased. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Yuuri thought he was actually going to freeze in the cold air before they reached their destination. He was surprised that Yuri didn’t catch on until they were a block away, breathing out a huffy breath and muttering,

“Why are we going this way?”

Yuuri shrugged, his fingers moving over the key in his pocket once more. The metal was cold in his hand, but he smiled as he ran his thumb over the grooved teeth. “Why not?” He asked.

Yuri groaned, elbowing Yuuri in the ribs hard enough to make the older man gasp with pain. “Why are you taking me to the rink when I can’t skate, asshole? It’s closed, anyway.”

“Is it?” Yuuri mused, finally pullin the key from his pocket. He dangled it in front of them, watching it glint under the streetlights. “Good thing I have Viktor’s key, then.”

Yuri furrowed his eyebrows as Yuuri slid his hand back into his pocket, already growing cold from being out in the chilly air. “He’ll be fucking pissed at you.”

Yuuri sighed, aware that Viktor might be angry at him. But, he knew that he would have calmed down from his rampage by the time he found out, and he would understand why Yuuri took the key. “That’s okay,” Yuuri assured him. “He will understand after I have a talk with him, and I’m sure he will apologize for exploding at you like that, too.”

“I already told you,” Yuri grumbled, “I don’t need a fucking apology.” He was quiet for a moment when they reached the rink, standing still outside the door and not letting go of Yuuri to let him open it. “I don’t… have my skates,” he finally whispered.

“Hmm,” Yuuri hummed. “I don’t have mine either, you know.”

Yuri scowled, pulling away from Yuuri and leaving him with a barren chill that occupied the space where Yuri’s heat had warmed his side. He shivered, the chill running down his spine. “Why the fuck did you bring me here, then?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “To rub more salt in the wound?”

Yuuri didn’t hesitate to reach out and pull him back in, shaking his head. “When was the last time you skated with those crappy rental skates, hmm?”

Yuri deflated, letting out a slow breath. “A long time ago… they don’t even have picks, and they’re mostly hockey skates…”

Yuuri smiled, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right.” Yuuri, chuckled, remembering. “Back in Detroit, Phichit and I decided to go and wear rental skates one day to fool around after practice. We fell on our asses and Celestino kept shouting at us to cut it out before we broke our arms or something.”

“Did you?” Yuri ask, eyes flickering to the rink doors.

Yuuri shook his head, linking their arms together again. “No, we didn’t.” Yuuri pulled Yuri closer to the doors, asking, “Wanna fall on your ass with me?” Yuuri asked with a playful grin. His hand emerged from his pocket, angling the key at the keyhole.

Yuri huffed before returning the grin. “You’ll be the one falling on your ass, not me,” he challenged.

Yuuri pushed the key inside and flicked his wrist to the left. “We’ll see about that.”


	12. Ice Angels

Yuuri effortlessly propped himself up on the rental skate counter and swung his legs over to the other side as if he had done it a thousand times. He picked out his own size and Yuri’s, grinning as he handed the brown, well-worn skates to him over the counter. He made a point to emphasize the picks, which these rentals had.

A small smile played at the corners of Yuri’s mouth as he received the skates, rolling his eyes and offering his hand to Yuuri to help him back over. He didn’t hesitate to take it, sliding back over the counter. He wanted to keep Yuri’s hand in his as they walked to a bench to lace up their skates, but he resisted, allowing Yuri to pull away after he jumped down from the counter.

They laced up their skates in near silence, Yuri stretching out his legs after and wiggling his feet around. After an assessment, he concluded with a chuckle,

“These feel like shit.”

“Admitting defeat already?” Yuuri teased, standing. “It’s alright if you fall on your ass, you know.”

“I already told you,” Yuri growled, standing on fawn’s legs, “you’ll be the one on your ass.”

Yuri seemed to shatter under the familiar cold of the rink, breathing in deeply when they opened the doors. He stood still for a moment, head tilted back and inhaling sharply, before taking a step forward. Yuuri watched as he stepped out onto the ice, hissing through his teeth as he did so.

“Jeez, do they ever sharpen these blades?”

Yuuri smirked, following Yuri out onto the ice. They started a slow pace around the rink, circling next to each other as they warmed up to the foreign feel of overused blades against the freshly paved ice. 

It was on their third lap that Yuri ended up slipping. His feet came out from underneath him and he grabbed onto Yuuri’s arm in order to keep himself upright. Yuuri let him, using his free arm to help steady him further as they both tried to remain standing.

“You okay?”

Yuri nodded, still not letting go of Yuuri’s arm as they began moving once more. “I'm fine,” he grumbled. 

Yuuri linked his arm through Yuri's without a second thought, humming softly. “This way, we can keep each other up.”

Yuuri nearly glowed when Yuri didn't pull away. They kept each other up as they skated circles around the ice, not doing any tricks or jumps. It was new for the both of them, but Yuuri found it calming, cathartic. He hoped that Yuri found it so, too.

Of course, their night out had to come to an end. It was nearly three in the morning when they finally got back to the apartment, frozen and shivering. 

“Where did you sneak off to so late?” Viktor asked as soon as they were in the door. He sat on the couch with Makkachin, eyes red and cheeks stained as if he'd been crying.

Yuuri slipped off his jacket, keeping Yuri quiet by holding a finger to his lips. For once, Yuri obeyed, letting Yuuri do the talking. “I took Yuri to the rink.”

“Oh,” Viktor answered plainly, finally looking up. His eyes were still wet as he held out his arms, desperately looking Yuri. “Please, Yura. Come here.”

“Fuck you!” Yuri spat on instinct, snarling at Viktor like a feral cat. “I'm not hugging you, you asshole!”

Viktor broke, then, tears cascading down his cheeks as his arms shook from the effort of holding them out. “Yura,” he pleaded. “Please. I'm sorry for reacting like that.”

“I don't need a fucking apology,” Yuri affirmed. 

“Then what do you need?” Viktor asked, clearly catching him off guard.

Yuri froze, kicking at the floor as his eyes darted from Viktor to Yuuri and back again. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted softly. 

Yuuri took Yuri's moment of vulnerability as a cue to guide him towards the couch. Pliable, Yuri allowed himself to be led over to Viktor without any further complaint. Viktor’s arms wrapped around Yuri without hesitation, his face hiding in the crown of Yuri's head. Makkachin, irritable from being jostled and disturbed, hopped down from the couch and retreated to his doggy bed.

“I'm sorry,” Viktor repeated. “I'm sorry that I don't always know what's best for you.”

Yuuri frowned, one hand moving to run Viktor’s back and the other carding through Yuri's hair. “Sometimes when you try to help the people you love, you end up hurting them accidentally. But that's okay if you correct it, and learn from it. Right, Yuri?”

Yuri shrugged, looking down at his lap. “He’s an asshole,” he argued again, with no real fight in his voice.

“I'm sorry for being an asshole,” Viktor finally whispered, visibly squeezing Yuri tighter. “I'm just terrified, Yura.”

“Of what?”

“I've already almost lost you twice, and I'm terrified that if it happens again, I won't be there to stop you.”

Silence hung between them for a moment, long enough for Yuuri to understand what Viktor was implying. He'd almost lost Yuri twice? Is that what he was referring to in the hospital, when he shamed himself for not being there when he had promised to? Yuuri's stomach felt like it was filled with rocks.

“Oh,” Yuri said simply. “Oh.”

“Weren't you afraid?" Viktor's voice was as fragile as Yuuri felt, but he resisted reaching out for his hand. "Weren't you afraid to die?"

Yuri only shrugged, eyes meeting theirs for the first time since he and Yuuri came back to the apartment. "I was more afraid to live."

The words shook Yuuri to the core, and he broke as Viktor began to sob into Yuri's hair. Yuri only stared blankly ahead, completely desensitized to Viktor’s emotions. Yuuri swallowed hard, realizing that it was going to take more than a trip to the ice rink to pull Yuri back out of the depths he’d fallen into.


	13. Revisting the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempted suicide in this chapter.

Orange and black shoes swung in circles, making swirls over the distant street below. With each rush of wind, he was brought closer to letting go. His hands gripped the iron bar he sat on, but he allowed himself to swing along with his feet. He moved forward, then back, as his feet moved inwardly, creating a blur of tiger-print for him alone to see.

He wondered if it would hurt, or if it would be quick enough that he wouldn’t feel a thing. He wondered which part of him would touch the ground first- his head, his feet? Would he land on his back, or his front? How would his blood splatter onto the concrete? Would he even make a sound, or would his bones crushing fall upon deaf ears to the other inhabitants of the apartment complex?

“This isn’t what they made these balconies for.”

Yuri gasped as warm arms crossed over his chest, pulling him from his perch in the matter of seconds. “What the fu-”

“Shh.”

He was crowded, smothered, by strong arms and a familiar scent. “How did you get in here?”

“Yakov gave me a key.”

They were silent after that, Yuri breathing heavily with his face buried in Viktor’s chest, and Viktor rubbing circles on his back. They stayed on the floor just beyond the balcony door until Yuri’s knees began to ache from their position, and his neck got a crick in it that would last for days.

“You’re only twelve years old,” Viktor finally said as he loosened his grip enough for Yuri to meet his eyes.

Yuri scrunched his nose, scoffing at his implication. “So what?”

“I’m twenty-four,” Viktor continued. “That’s exactly double your age. I’m twice as good at living as you are.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to me-”

“I want you to beat me,” Viktor whispered. “I want you to beat me at skating, and at living. If I die at fifty, I want you to live to a hundred. Break all my records, Yura.”

“You’re an idiot,” Yuri hissed, the words boiling inside his chest. Was this what it felt like, to have some care if you lived or died? Was this something like love?

“So are you,” Viktor told him easily.

Yuri picked at the carpet with his fingers, shrugging. “And what if I don’t want to beat you at living?”

Viktor slid his knees up to his chest, using them to rest his head. “Then at least tell me the next time you’re feeling this way, so I can try and help. I promise that I’ll always be here for you. I really do care about you.”

“Fuck knows why,” Yuri spat, averting his eyes.

Viktor shrugged in return, patting Yuri on the back as he shifted to stand up. “Come on, either you come and sleep in my guest room tonight, or I tell Yakov how I found you. Your choice.”

Yuri snarled, but began to gather up his belongings. “I’m bringing my cat,” he barked.

“Be my guest.”

Yuri’s eyes shot open as he woke in a cold sweat, hand reaching for his phone to shine a light in the room. Sure enough, he was in Viktor’s guest room, and Potya was with him. But he wasn’t twelve anymore, and Yuuri was in the next room, as well. Yuri sighed, scrolling through his phone to distract himself.

Each time he had that dream, it was the same. An exact replay of that day, the first time Viktor had stopped him from suicide. He had started having it more now since he was put on a new medication, barring his visit to the hospital for a second attempt on his own life. He’d been having more cold sweats too, and blooms of anxiety that rocked his chest with a painful static. Still, he tried to deal with it on his own.

“It hurts, Potya,” Yuri mumbled, rolling over and burying his face in her soft fur. He stroked her head, nuzzling in deeper. She was always the biggest source of comfort for him, his best and only friend.

Each morning was a reminder of what a burden he had become, when either Viktor or Yuuri would miss practice to stay home with him. Of course, he couldn’t be trusted to be by himself. Yet, not once had either of them complained about missing practice because of him, or even mentioned it as if it mattered. But to Yuri, it mattered. He was a nuisance, and he was getting in their way.

“Viktor, I’ll stay home today,” Yuuri offered at breakfast.

Yuri narrowed his eyes as Viktor looked up in surprise, lowering his coffee cup without taking a sip. “But it’s my day to stay home.”

Yuuri cleared his throat quietly, pushing his scrambled eggs around on his plate. “I’m not really up to going to practice today.”

Yuri’s heart caught in his throat, knowing that he had been less than helpful the last time Yuuri was feeling down. He cringed at the thought of fucking up again, of managing to push Yuuri even further away when he was one of the only two people who seemed to care for him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home too, love?” Viktor asked, his coffee now fully abandoned on the kitchen table.

Yuuri shook his head firmly, locking eyes with Yuri for the first time that morning. “We’ll be okay, right, Yuri?”

Yuri swallowed dryly, all moisture suddenly leaving his body as his mind began to scream. _Useless, useless, useless. You’ll just make it worse. You always make it worse_. “Right,” Yuri mumbled, nodding his head robotically. “We’ll be fine.”

_You won’t be. And you’ll just make it so he isn’t, either. Useless, worthless. Why are you still alive?_

Yuri took a long swallow of his coffee, trying to swallow the taste of bile that had risen in his throat. It was going to be a long day, as they always seemed to be.


End file.
